by Lindsey Hart
Her shift shimmied even further up her hips, baring her belly to him, the garter, those silk stockings. Her legs moved, clutching him, taking him to her, urging him forward in wordless desperation. His thighs chaffed against hers, the rough hairs meeting smooth skin, hard, lean muscle melding against her impossible softness.
Charity shivered violently again. Her breath was as shaky and labored as his. He paused, waiting, trying to keep himself from doing it, from taking her, loving her, when he knew he had no right to. She wasn’t his. She might be there, she might be his salvation, but he knew that despite her bright light, he was destined to hard darkness. He would only soil her…
“God, Joe, please…” Charity begged. She rolled her hips, grinding hard against him, drawing his eyes down to the juncture of their bodies. She surged upwards, meeting his hips, tempting and tantalizing him beyond what he could bear.
Just the thin barrier of lace remained between them. Her heat, her wetness, already soaked through, coating him, driving him into madness.
“Please. I want this. I want this so badly. It’s alright. I’m… I’m on the pill.”
He closed his eyes, slammed down those lids so he wouldn’t have to look into her sweet, pleading face, her glazed over eyes and parted lush lips. He wouldn’t have to see all the hurt when he finally told her that his mind hadn’t even got that far. It wasn’t the reason he hesitated.
He didn’t want to take her, to love her, to know her, to torture himself and her, when he couldn’t truly have her. He had no life to offer her. He had nothing at all to offer her. She thought she wanted this. Him. She couldn’t save him. It wasn’t her job. He wouldn’t crush her life like that, choke the light out of her. If she stayed, sooner or later she would hate him. This wasn’t the start of anything, as she painfully wanted. It was the most bittersweet goodbye.
“Please,” Charity begged again. Her hands fisted in his hair, pulling him to her, while her hips ground violently against him once more. “We both need this. It’s alright. It will all be alright,” she whispered, like she already knew.
She pulled him to her, brought his face to hers and when their lips met a violent explosion detonated inside of his head, his body, his heart. It blew out every last shred of control he had, of reluctance, of reason.
He moaned low and hard in her ear, his hands already moving downwards, pushing aside that thin scrap of lace, sliding through her slickness. She arched into him, the painful, horrible pressure spurring them both forward, the act so much bigger, greater, than either of them.
He thrust into her with one long, hard, hot stroke. He filled her completely, joining them. Her back curled off the ground as her hands scrabbled for a hold on his shoulders. Her legs curled around his hips, driving him onward. He set a rhythm that was perfect, achingly perfect. It was everything at once. Day and night, hot and cold, light and dark, right and wrong.
Joe had never known such a sweet pain. He shut his eyes and let her take him, let her shatter him, let her break him.
CHAPTER 15
Charity
She’d known men before, but she hadn’t known true pleasure until Joe McAllister touched her. His touch was fire, lightning, dizzying, heady, aching, pure and sinful.
His lips captured hers once more. He drank in her breath as he sipped at her mouth. He licked her lips, nipped them, thrust his tongue towards hers. They tangled together in long, hot strokes that turned her insides to liquid desire.
His touch changed her. Remade her. He wasn’t her first, but he was the first that showed her what it was like to know true desire. To feel the white-hot heat, the joining that was so much more than just that.
Joe’s thrusts changed. He filled her, so impossibly full. He was large, and it hurt, but the pain was sweet, an ache she never wanted to forget.
He broke the kiss, swore softly, muttered words that were not words at all. She didn’t have to open her eyes to hear the way his voice changed, to hear how far gone he was, to truly know how lost he was in her.
He was still wearing his t-shirt. It was damp with sweat where her hands clutched his shoulders. She wanted to take it off. Pull it over his head, rip off her own thin shift and press their bodies together, feel the hard and the soft, smooth skin meeting the dusky crisp, manly hairs. She wanted all of him, everything.
His hands gripped her hips as he drove into her hard, his thrust growing frenzied, messy. The sound of their bodies joining, the wind rustling over them, the warmth of the day even though the sky was grey with clouds, she felt it all, heard it all.
Joe bent his head to her neck. He breathed there, hard, hot breaths that dampened her already moist skin. His fingers curled into her. She arched to meet him, grinding into him, opening herself to take him further, to take every hard inch of him.
They found a rhythm that drove them wild. They rocked together, their cries mingling. Their whispers, moans and fevered pleas were swallowed up by the softly soughing grass, the rustle of the wind playing over long, thin stocks.
The first stirrings of a hard climax, a climax like she’d never felt before, ripped up her legs. Charity lost herself in Joe. She closed her eyes and let him take her, climb with her, show her, teach her. His hands were everywhere, stroking, caressing, encouraging her forward, driving the white-hot heat into the very marrow of her bones, imprinting it in her cells.
When the pleasure hit, the true, hard pleasure, the shock of it forced her lips apart. She screamed Joe’s name even as she clung to him desperately, her hands scrabbling behind his neck, gripping his hair, the cotton of his shirt, nails digging into his hard muscle below.
She shattered apart, let the darkness overcome her, swallow her. The climax took her apart and put her back together, but she wasn’t the same. She was forever changed, forever marked. There wasn’t a part of her that was left untouched. Joe was inside of her, still thrusting hard, panting as wildly as she was. He was out of control, his sweat mingling with hers.
He came hard, inside of her, the hot jets filling her sweetly. His weight sagged over hers, heavy, but not oppressive or painful. She held him as their bodies rocked slowly, the aftershocks of their climaxes ripping through them.
They stayed that way for innumerable minutes, time and grief, regret, distance, years, the past and the future forgotten. They were lost in each other, even as the gentle breeze cooled their sweat. His weight was so very perfect. The pattern of his breath grew steadier, calmer, easing as their passion faded and reason returned.
She felt utterly bereft when he rolled away. A sharp stab of regret ripped through her, not for herself, but for the fact that he was already pulling away. For just a minute, a long minute, she’d been foolish enough to hope that he was hers. That the desperation that drove them forward wasn’t purely physical. That he’d be able to open his heart and his soul and let her in, even just a fraction.
Her heart, her foolish, hopeful heart, bled as Joe fumbled at his clothes. He couldn’t look at her. She felt like she’d been stripped bare, layers peeled away, exposing the very center of her. She’d given him her soul because she felt it was right. She still felt it was right. She felt no shame.
“Joe,” she whispered. His name was so different this time, spoken without the heat of passion. It was just as much of a plea, a broken plea.
He turned to her slowly, his face pained. She wished she could take it from him. The sorrow and grief that still held him captive. She’d given him everything she had and somehow, it wasn’t enough.
I can’t think like that. This isn’t about me. I stepped into his life. I forced my way into his heart. She could tell that somewhere, in the cracks of his armor, in the cracks of his heart, there was a space for her. His touch told her that, the complete loss of control, the way he loved her with his body and hands even though his mind and wounded spirit rebelled in fear. It told her that she was there, inside of him. A part of him as he was a part of her.
“You told me to leave and I’m still here. Please, don’t
pull away from me. I know it’s a lot… it’s too much, too soon…. I know it hurts. It hurts me too, just please, please, look at me.”
When his eyes met hers, they were haunted. They shone with the horrible light of grief, of sorrow. It was scorching and burning and broke her heart all over again. There was beauty there too and a pain filled yearning. He blinked, trying to get control of his emotion, trying to shutter the light she saw there, breaking through the darkness. It was the beacon that always drew her, warmed her. The beacon of hope, of feeling, of desire. The need to be loved.
CHAPTER 16
Joe
She didn’t expect him to return when he got up to rearrange their clothes. He could already feel her bracing for what she knew was inevitably coming. It could never be any different between them, no matter how much either of them might want it.
He tucked her in against his side, pulling her back to him, tucking one arm around her hip, edging the other under her head to support her neck.
“You have to leave,” he whispered huskily near her ear. She shivered at the feel of his warm breath on her sweat dampened skin.
“I couldn’t leave you before,” she responded gently, far more gently than he deserved. She didn’t turn to face him. “What makes you think I can do it now?”
“Because you have to,” he groaned. “There isn’t life here. Not a life that I can offer you. There is nothing here, nothing but brokenness.”
“Then leave. Come back to the city with me. Go anywhere else in the world and I’ll follow. Go away from here and find a way to be happy.”
He shut his eyes and blocked out the rising tide of sorrow crawling from the black pit in his belly up his throat to choke him. “I want that more than anything, but I can’t leave. This house, it’s just us now. Everything I wanted, all my dreams, died the day Ginny did. I never got to know what we were having. A boy or a girl. The night she was taken from me, all those memories, all those milestones, were taken too. I’ll never get to watch my child take their first steps. I’ll never grow old with Ginny. Attend a graduation or a wedding. I’ll never have grandchildren. That house will never be restored. It’s always going to be that way, rotting. Falling apart. Unable to help itself. Locked in the past.”
“Joe…” she did turn then. She turned and wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him. “You’re right. Those things were taken from you. Your future. Your child. Your wife. You don’t have to let that be the rest of your life though. You could have all those things. You could grow old with someone. You could have children and grandchildren. It’s not too late.”
His shoulders dipped. He wanted to believe her. He wanted so very badly to believe in her words. The stirring of hope she brought to life in him arose once more, a phoenix from the ashes. He felt it, the desire, so real it was tangible and thick in the air around them.
“There is nothing for you here,” he repeated thickly. “I can’t give you the life you think I can. I’m not the man you think you know. I’m just a stranger, Charity.”
“How can you say that?” She reached up, eyes burning and gently caressed his cheek. “How can you say that after everything?”
“Because it’s the truth. I could change, but it’s never going to be enough. We can’t build a life here. This wasn’t your dream. I’m not your dream. I’m fifteen years older than you. I’ve seen things, been through things, that you should never have to know. I’m not the man you need.”
“You’re just saying those things because you want to drive me away. You’re scared. I get it. I am too.”
“This never-”
“No.” Her fingers flew to his lips and pressed gently. “Don’t say it. Don’t say this never should have happened. It wasn’t a mistake. Even if I go like you’re asking me to, I’m glad it happened. Do you hear me? I’ll never forget this. It was beautiful. I’ve never experienced anything like it. You’re a part of me now and I needed this. I needed to give this to you, to show you that it is possible if you wanted to, to find hope. Maybe even love.”
“Charity you can’t-”
“What? Love you? Because it’s only been a few days?” Her gaze met his, her eyes burning right through him with a fire he couldn’t even begin to decode or understand.
“Yes.”
“Maybe not. Or maybe that’s all it takes. I don’t know. I don’t know what could happen in the future. I don’t know whether I’d be happy here or not. I hadn’t truly even thought that far because I knew you wouldn’t let it happen. I knew that you’d do this, pull away, run away, shut down after.”
“And yet you did it anyway.”
“Yes. Because age has nothing to do with it. The past, the future, it doesn’t exist right now. Our souls are here, right in this moment and that truly is eternal. I knew at some point we’d say goodbye. Even if you wouldn’t go, or let me stay, we are a part of each other now and I’ll remember this forever.”
“That’s just an ideal…” he tried so hard to help her understand, to give her a reason to leave, to make her see even when her eyes had been opened all along. She’d always seen straight to his soul. She’d come too late. He’d already accepted that happiness was not his lot in life. He’d had love and lost it. He’d had everything. He couldn’t risk it again. He’d always known that, right from the terrible night of the accident that it was all over. Everything.
“If it is, then it’s my ideal. I am going to treasure this because it does mean something, and I know it always will. I truly believe life is what you make it. Everyone gets dealt a shitty hand sometimes. Yours is worse than most. I’m not going to tell you what to think or feel. I’m not going to decide your future. I just can’t bear to think of you and that house, all alone.”
He closed his eyes, leaned forward and kissed her cheek. Once his lips touched her skin it was like he couldn’t get enough. He kissed her desperately, her forehead, her eyes, her, tears, her lips. “Please go,” he said brokenly as he pulled away. “My life is hell and angels don’t belong in hell.”
She searched his face once more, her eyes infinitely sad, the light behind them slowly dying out, the fires fading away. He hated himself. What he was doing didn’t feel like a sacrifice. It didn’t feel noble. It felt cowardly.
She ripped away from him. He watched in agony, his insides twisting and bleeding, while she gathered up her clothes. He trained his vision on her retreating figure, growing smaller and smaller in the distance as she became one with the horizon and eventually vanished over the gentle rise and fall of land that hid the house from his view.
He turned over slowly on the blanket, exhaling a painful sigh. It was a horrible sound, drenched in misery, steeped in the sorrow of being once again, fully and utterly alone.
Joe closed his eyes, hot tears leaking out the corners. He no longer cared. He always knew this was coming. He meant what he said. It wasn’t up to her to save him and he wasn’t going to condemn her to any length of time doing it. She’d done more than enough already. Because of her, he now knew there was another side, another side he just couldn’t get to. He now knew he believed what she said, and it hurt even more knowing how badly he wanted it and how hopeless it was to ever assume he’d get even a fraction of the way there.
He expected to see Ginny behind his eyes, or Charity’s wounded face and eyes glowing with compassion and emotion. Instead, he saw nothing at all. Just the horrible blackness that had been his life for so very long.
He wasn’t sure how long he remained like that, unable to move even a muscle, his grief so great, his insides so twisted, that he could barely draw a breath.
The sound of a car pulling along the road adjacent to the field finally spurred him into an upright position. He realized the clouds had parted overhead, allowing the sun to shine through. He shielded his eyes against the bright rays.
He pushed to his feet, aware that he wasn’t on his own land. His neighbor wouldn’t exactly be happy that Joe McAllister, a man the town pretty much saw as cursed, had tak
en up residence in his field.
He braced for a storm of words until he realized it wasn’t his neighbor at all that stepped from the beat-up sedan. It took his foggy brain a long moment to register the fact that his neighbors didn’t even own a car.
And then she stepped out.
She’d changed back into her jeans and t-shirt. Her hair glistened against the sun, a fiery light around her shoulders. The fiery halo of his angel.
He couldn’t move a muscle as he watched her leave her car, cross the ditch and step into the field. She made her way to him, the thick sea of grass parting around her. He couldn’t even breathe until she stopped, a mere foot in front of him.
“No,” she said firmly. She crossed her arms over her chest. “I didn’t even get as far down the road this time as I did last time. Just- no. I’m not leaving. You paid for a month of my company and you’re stuck with it. Deal with it. I know you’re hurt and I know you’re scared and having me here steps all over that. I’m not trying to crush your heart or make things worse. I’m offering my friendship, if nothing else. You don’t get to tell me how to live my life. You don’t get to say if you’d make me happy or not. God, I can’t believe we’re even discussing that at this point. Shouldn’t fights like this happen months or years down the road?” She did offer a small smile to soften her words. “It’s been less than a week and look what has happened. Neither of us know how life is going to change or where it’s going to go. So, for a month, you’re stuck with me. Well, actually more like three weeks now. After that, if you want me to go, I’ll go. If you want me to go and stay in touch, I’ll do that too. And maybe, if you want me to stay, then I would consider that as well. As long as you stop trying to be a damn hero or an asshole. I haven’t figured out which it is yet. The worst part, Joe, is that you’ve already made a decision not to live. You think you died that night too? Guess again. You’re still here, living and breathing. I can’t even begin to imagine what you went through or what you’re still going through, but you don’t have to do it alone. Your future isn’t bleak and it’s not black. You’re a damn artist. Your future is filled with color. You’re just going to have to accept it at some point.”